


intoxicated

by anastxsia



Series: boyf riends oneshots [1]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Jeremy!Pining, M/M, Masturbation, My First Smut, Orgasm, Pining, Scent Kink, Shameless Smut, Smut, he uses the hoodie to jack off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 06:31:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14868548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anastxsia/pseuds/anastxsia
Summary: Jeremy Heere knew he probably shouldn’t be doing this.But he couldn’t stop.





	intoxicated

**Author's Note:**

> so, i wrote this at 1am with no spellcheck or anything. i didn’t even read it over so forgive me if it’s bad but heres a smutty oneshot! first one i published and i didn’t even make sure it was good lmao.

Alright.

Jeremy could face the reality of things.

He may or may not be in love with his best friend.

And, truthfully, it was hard not to be. It was hard not to smile everytime he saw Michael laugh, or giggle at his sarcastic, nerdy humouring, or beam with happiness when he confidently rambled about his passions.

There was too much to love about Michael, everyday Jeremy found himself noticing more and more things that washed giddiness over him.

One of those major things was his scent.

It was one of those things that Michael paid a lot of attention too, because he hated those gross kids who reeked of body odour and unwashed clothes. Frankly, Jeremy did too, but he could never adopt the right scent, while Jeremy made sure he was clean everyday by showering, using a scented bodywash, wearing deodourant, and (if need be), spraying some cologne underneath his shirt, Michael was way ahead of him. He was more particular as to how he smelt.

Of course, there was always that small hint of weed on him, but generally it was over encumbered by the sweet smelling vanilla oil that he mixed in with a musky bodywash to use in the shower. There were always notes of a honeyed warm cinnamon, which was also apart of the concoction, and then, of course a man’s deodourant, and sometimes he’d use cologne—— Jeremy _might’ve_ asked Michael about what he did that made him smell the way he did once and, this was his answer.

But whatever it was, it leaves Michael smelling _delecant,_ which also meant his clothes smelt the same, delicious way.

And why was Jeremy bringing this up, out of all the things he‘s in love with about Michael?

Well because he‘s lying on his bed with Michael’s hoodie encaping his arms and chest, because he has it for the weekend after Michael had accidentally left it at his house on Friday.

And God, the scent is _intoxicating_.

Jeremy pressed his nose into the collar, and fell back with his eyes shut deeply into his bed. The hoodie is big on him, it hangs over his wrists and, when standing, reaches below his boxers.

He can’t help but feeling this awry lust lingering through his body. He can’t help that the scent reminds him so much of Michael’s presence.

Jeremy tries to ignore the sensation as he breathes in the hoodie again, cupping his hand around the collar hem and holding it into his face. He tries to ignore the growing fuzzy feeling, the lust that’s increasing, the whines eliciting from his mouth, he tries to ignore.

Ignore.

Ignore it.

But breathing in Michael’s scent is physically a gift that he can’t refuse. It’s heaven-sent, it’s inebriating, it’s making Jeremy go dizzy and warm and glow from his lower regions and God it’s not a good idea to be doing this but he needs to smell him. He can’t stop.

With a blurred sense of rationality that only is defied through the lens of a lust-ridden mind, Jeremy deeply swallows, then reaches for his belt buckle.

The deep red hue in Michael’s sweatshirt now matched his face. The room is dark, with only soft blue lighting creeping in from his shutters. There’s a waning outline of his jeans, there’s these unsaturated colours toned down by the low-light.

Jeremy’s breath hitches in his throat, laying the sweatshirt’s collar down while he unzips his jeans, and rolls both the layers towards his mid-thigh.

For a second, he looks down, and maybe in a very brief thought, he deliberates if this is a good idea.

But one more breath of Michael’s hoodie makes his cock throb and his spine honey, and with that, he has his answer.

 _Yes, this a great idea_.

Jeremy sighs, and slowly he trickles one hand down to his base, and flusteredly tries to look at the ceiling. It traces up, and soon, his hand wraps around his cock and grips it.

He breaths hotly into the sweatshirt, and his legs kick upwards trying to rid the rest of the denim, but it gets caught around his bony knees. _Good enough_.

Jeremy traces his hand up his shaft. He’s sensitive, and a breathy moan hitches in his throat and comes out garbled, but his wrist keeps dragging upwards.

It’s slow and tender, and precum is leaking from his tip, begging for more, but he drags his breaths out heavily. There’s a hot frisson in his body, his face is flushed red and the scent– the _scent_ , it’s only encouraging him.

He can’t help but picture Michael’s tan hand wrapped tenderly around his cock, pumping at an excruciatingly low pace while planting bites across his neck.

Jeremy softly tilts his head to the side, and pants into his collarbone.

“M- Micah..” breathes Jeremy, slowly rolling his precum-daubed fingers over his slit and shaking in response.

Jeremy whines.

He inhales, and shivers– there’s a thrill to Michael’s scent, because it makes him _feel real_.

And Michael loves to tease him, or, _imaginary_ -Michael does, and he does it in the _best_ ways. Jeremy can feel the presence of Michael looming over his body and pressing rough kisses into his half-open mouth, down onto his jaw, and deep into his neck. Jeremy bites his lip.

His hand pumps up to his tip again, and a hot rush runs down his spine. It’s coursing.

Soft moans, jumbled breaths flee into his collar. Jeremy quickens his hand’s pace.

He realizes he’d bruise easily against Michael, the shoves from the jocks in the hallway taught him that his skin is frail. And Jeremy could picture the reddish, mauve hickeys on his neck afterwards; and the way Michael would smugly smile at them, and innocuously claim he had _no_ idea Jeremy had such ‘weak skin’. But they both would know that Michael was just possessive of Jeremy, that he just wanted to let everyone know Jeremy was his’. Jeremy would probably blush all day trying to cover them with a high-collared shirt or ill-seasoned scarf.

His breath hitches as he flicks his wrist upwards, then back to the base, his fingers twirling cautiously around the shaft.

Jeremy’s cock was now gilded in a thin layer of precum. His short breaths and moans are repressed, and sometimes he can’t help but mumble “Michael—” while squeezing the head. His fingers slick over the tip, and electricity shoots up into Jeremy. He shivers.

He can feel his stomach begin to shift, the warmth in his body was fuzzy. He pictures Michael, standing at the foot of his bed with a featured smug look. He pictures him crawling onto his bed and spreading his knees apart and dominating the presence in-between.

Jeremy can’t help but part his knees, even if they were still half clad from the knee-down. His spine curls upwards while he fucks his fist, and, in a desperate attempt for release, he shoves two fingers into his mouth.

 _Good boy_. Imaginary-Michael mutters lowly, in the voice he sometimes used that was devoid of his casual nerdiness.

Jeremy’s whines are muffled with his mouth taut around his fingers. He takes them out with a pop, they’re coated in saliva. Michael’s voice is still rattling around his head.

He’s surrounded by Michael’s scent. By now, the sweatshirt has ridden up to his midriff, and he’s whimpering Michael’s name while tugging at his cock. A mess, really.

Curses elicit from his mouth, compiled mostly of short “ _f-fuck, Michael_!—” adages and other muddled noises bunching out of his mouth. Pleasure was coming in whims, indundated by Michael’s scent made him so sensitive, his member twitched with neediness.

His cock pulsates, it’s throbbing, and Jeremy can feel the warmth building up into it, like a pressure cooker or a shaken champagne bottle.

On a particularly long run of his thumb that brushes into his tip, Jeremy breathes deeply into the hoodie, and thrusts into his hand one last time— the pent, flippant heat in his stomach releases.

He goes numb with pleasure, his lips part, his hand’s grip tightens, he fumbles with Michael’s name and his eyes brim white. Energy frissons and courses out of his body, which shakes through his orgasm.

Luckily, none of his cum gets on the sweatshirt.

And as he comes down from his ridden-out high, he lets go of his cock, which has become so oversensitized to the point where it _hurts_ to touch.

Jeremy’s eyes are hazy and laden, and he’s panting. He can’t really come to terms with what’s just happened yet. He lies there, for minutes on end, quivering slightly with afterglow.

The rationality of jacking off in your best friend’s sweet smelling hoodie being a bad and guilt-worth thing wouldn’t set in for some time, so he hopelessly wiped his thighs, hand, and cock off, then dunked the tissue in the trash. He bucked the jeans the rest of the way off, and curled up in his sheets comfortably.

He knows in the morning, he'd regret doing this. He'd fervently wash Michael's sweater with an excessive amount of laundry detergent for penance. He’ll hate himself for doing this.

But now, he feels fuzzy, and he's drowsy, and tired, and he’s slowly loosing consciousness.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed!
> 
> twitter: @_anastxsia  
> tumblr: @anastxsiaus
> 
> kudos and comments are always appreciated!


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